


stick shift

by aelescribe



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Blow Jobs in a Car, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, no beta we die like men, the gay struggle: do i want them or want to be them?, this has both glennry text and oakson subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelescribe/pseuds/aelescribe
Summary: “You seem stressed. I’m just saying...”He shifts, shrugs. A hand creeps over Darryl’s thigh and squeezes—“Let me know if you change your mind.”
Relationships: Glenn Close/Darryl Wilson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19
Collections: Darryl-Centric Fanfics, Glenn-Centric Fanfics





	stick shift

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Heavy Breathing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29552223) by [zungeonsandzaddies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zungeonsandzaddies/pseuds/zungeonsandzaddies). 



> these no homo motherfuckers with a sprinkle of Catholic Guilt! 
> 
> welcome to the dads with benefits series where everyone is horny and has a complicated relationship with their queerness and masculinity. the reason ron doesnt get involved in this fuck triangle is because hes smarter than everyone else :-)dfkhjfskdjhd 
> 
> this takes place after glenn and henry... shenanigans... from the attached fic by zungeonsandzaddies. and also related to my other glennry horney backseat fic. enjoy :-)

Glenn’s fingers drum the passenger window aimlessly. Darryl could complain about him smudging up the glass, but he doesn’t have the energy yet. The sun is barely beginning to rise.Henry and Ron sleep in the backseat, heads on each other’s shoulders, contentedly unaware of the waking world.Glenn was in and out the whole night, which was unusual for him. He usually slept quite sound. Darryl could take issue with the rapid shifting, the restless tics, the manic hum of his insomnia, but mercifully chose silence.

They hadn’t talked because they’re not the kind of people who talk.

So when Glenn asks, “Have you ever been fingered?”, it manages to catch Darryl off guard.

“Excuse me?” Darryl grunts.

“Have you, Darryl Wilson, ever been fingered?” he repeats, louder, just to be an asshole. They don’t wake up, thankfully.

“Jesus, Glenn—like, like, a prostate exam?”

“A non-medical one.”

“In the ass?”

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

He goes back to humming under his breath, having won some unspoken argument if his smirk was anything to go by.

 _Glenn isn’t a better man than you because he’s into anal play_ , he reminds himself. _He’s literally a train wreck_.

“No, Glenn, I haven’t been fingered in the ass before,” he says, just to be a dick.

Glenn shrugs. “You should try it sometime.”

“You know what? I’ll give Carole a call and make sure that is at the top of our list once we get our kids back.”

“Just making conversation, man.” He scratches the scruff growing on his jaw. For a moment, his bobbing Adam’s apple holds Daryl’s gaze captive. He forces himself to focus on the road. “What do you think of Henry?” That gives Darryl pause. In the backseat, the geologist’s head lolls. His glasses are tucked neatly into his shirt pocket. His lips flutter soundlessly. “Just curious cuz you guys are buddy-buddy.”

He chooses his next words carefully. “He’s a good dude.” Glenn nods, apparently deep in thought, and Darryl gets the sense he’s agreed to something far beyond his depth.

He doesn’t answer for a long minute. Then, he pulls a joint from his pocket, “Henry fingered me last night.”

The car swerves. The backseat passengers remain somehow asleep, aside from a few disjointed grumbles.

Darryl’s mouth is dry. “What?”

Glenn shrugs, sifting through pockets for his lighter. “I kinda liked it.”

Again, “What?”

Glenn flicks the lighter with his thumb and lets the flame sputter out. “No one’s ever done that to me before.”

“How high are you?”

“Stone cold sober, my man.”

He lifts the joint to his mouth. Before he can light it, Darryl snatches the lighter from his hand.

Glenn’s dark eyes narrow dangerously.

“Window,” Darryl says seriously.

Their stare down lasts only a few seconds but seems an eternity. At last, Glenn cracks the window, uttering, “You’re the boss.”

Fuck.

Darryl subtly adjusts in his seat.

Glenn clears his throat expectantly, holding out his hand for the lighter. 

Darryl pockets it. “Why are you telling me?”

Glenn groans into his hands. “I can’t really talk to Ron about it, can I?”

He doesn't bring up Glenn's wife because Glenn never talks about her. And if he brought up Glenn's wife, Glenn would bring up Darryl's wife, and he's really not ready to talk about that. As much as he dislikes Glenn there’s a code between them that proves solid. There’s an understanding of masculine code of conduct. That does not entail seeing how far those rules bend before they break.

Darryl’s voice drops to hushed conspiracy.“You... liked it?”

“Hell yeah, I did. It was fucking awesome.”

He cocks his head to the backseat where Henry rests. Darryl does not miss Glenn’s teeth tugging his plump lower lip. If he looks at the rear view, through the twilight, he could catch the purple bruises sneaking out from Henry’s collar.

His knuckles whiten on the wheel. He should stop talking, stop asking questions, stop feeding into this hungry swell of jealousy. Why is he jealous? He’s not. They’re both free to express themselves sexually as consenting adults in nonmonagmous marriages.

“You and Henry. How’s that work?”

His tongue scrapes along his teeth. Devilish doesn’t begin to describe how handsome. “Turns out he’s very persuasive.”

Darryl, hot and heady at the idea of Henry coming onto him—Glenn, someone—plows on.“Wait. When did this happen?”

“Last night.”

“In my backseat last night? The backseat of this car last night?”

Glenn props his cowboy boots up on the dashboard. His grin is nothing short of shit-eating.

“You’re an asshole.”

“Right you are, Wilson.”

“Feet off the dash.”

“Come on, dude, someone was gonna hook up in the backseat eventually.”

“It didn’t have to be you. Down.” Glenn makes a big show of planting his feet to the floor but something tells Darryl he’s not actually that bothered. He’s fucking with him. Darryl doesn’t take that lying down.“You’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

“He got me there three times.” Darryl stutters the gas. Henry, force of nature, bringing Glenn three orgasms. The back of his shirt sweats into his skin. The accomplishment isn’t even curbed by how absolutely ruined his car will be once this adventure is over.“He’s good,” Glenn continues. “Seriously good. Infuriatingly good.”

Darryl almost brings himself to ask, _What was it like?_ , but then remembers he’s a coward.

Glenn puts him out of his misery.“I’d never been fingered before. He was really nice about it.”

It’s easy for Darryl to picture Henry fishing through his cargo shorts for lube, brushing his partner’s hair back when it gets stuck to their sweaty forehead, kissing their neck as he pushes that first finger in—

He pushes those thoughts away. Not now. Not ever. The rosary swings, reminding him his place. Darryl was an attentive boy during Sunday school. But he never quite learned how _not_ to be curious. 

“Why did you two...?”

“Does there need to be a reason?” Darryl pointedly keeps his gaze on the road. “I’m sure he’d finger you if you asked him. He’s very open-minded.”

“I don’t know how that’s your takeaway from everything that’s going on right now.” Emotions are a luxury they can’t afford at this point, much less arousal, and Glenn’s indulgence will come back to bite him. Darryl is never so foolish as to indulge either of those. 

“If you’re gonna be on your A-game, you can’t neglect your D-game, is what I’m saying.”

Darryl snorts. It’s almost a laugh. It prompts a confession, a guilty admittance, “It’s easy when you’re not driving.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

Heat rushes all through Darryl’s body. Those words, electric, intense, ignite the fire Henry started when he kissed him the first time. His pants are rough and tight.

“I’ve hooked up in all sorts of vehicles in all sorts of ways. You make do, when you spend all that time on the road.”

Darryl huffs a long breath. He’s not entertaining this idea. He shouldn’t even reply.

“You seem stressed. I’m just saying...”

He shifts, shrugs. A hand creeps over Darryl’s thigh and squeezes—

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

—pats the tight muscle and withdraws.

Darryl glances in the rearview mirror, remembering Glenn’s greasy grin just days ago, when Henry was perched on his lap in the backseat going up and down, up, down... Who was he jealous of? The giver or the receiver?

Glenn looks for another lighter.

Darryl tightens his grip on the steering wheel.

If everyone gets to hook up in the back of his car, then it shouldn’t be off limits for himself either, right? They can deal with it. It’s not like anyone cares. It’s not like Darryl’s worried about hurting anyone’s feelings, because Glenn clearly isn’t worried about hurting his.

Not that he has. Darryl’s totally fine.

The morning sun peeks over the horizon. Henry and Ron are dozing in the backseat. Soon, the encroaching brightness will rouse them from slumber.

Darryl glances to his right. He meets Glenn’s steady gaze. Holds. Looks back to the road.

Out of the corner of his eye, Glenn ties his hair back into a messy bun. He pads the center console with his jacket.

Darryl focuses on the narrow path ahead widening into smoother terrain. Glenn’s hand slides back up his thigh.

 _Breathe_ , he reminds himself, the pull of his jeans’ zipper ringing in his ears. He slides his sunglasses down over his brow.

They’re not men of words, they’re men of action, he reminds himself as Glenn guides his cock up into his waiting mouth. Darryl wonders what it tastes like.Glenn bobs his head in a steady rhythm. Each _guh_ of his throat relaxes Darryl a bit more, sinking further and further into his seat.

They don’t need words. Darryl hasn’t needed them before and he doesn’t need them now.

The road is good. It lets him focus on what’s ahead, instead of Henry behind him, instead of Carole back home, instead of the rosary swinging from the mirror.He keeps his gaze ever forward, refusing to budge even an inch, lest he shatter the illusion.

Glenn slobbering all over his crotch with a reckless abandon. The same way he throws himself at everything. That’s annoying. Darryl grabs his hair and holds him still. They don’t need to get fancy, he just needs to get off. A guttural slip of the tongue, “Easy, boy.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack, and a moan ripples down his throat down Darryl’s shaft and that’s, _oh_ , that’s something.

He hisses and cants his hips up with a little effort, reveling the way Glenn tries to swallow his thrusts. He gets a nice rhythm going with what motion he has.

Glenn seems perfectly content to let Darryl fuck into his mouth. He knows what he’s doing. He lets his mouth hang open and drool, anchoring himself with Darryl’s thighs and straining across the center console. He’s getting close now.

Glenn chokes. The spasm of his throat around Darryl’s cock is too much. He pins Glenn’s face between his thighs and cums hard down his throat.

To his credit, Darryl doesn’t make a sound.He rubs the back of Glenn’s neck—attaboy.

Glenn hurriedly retracts, tucks Darryl in and zips up his jeans, turns and coughs into his arm. But not before Darryl catches a glimpse of the cum and saliva dripping down his chin. The genuine look of shock and arousal on Glenn’s normally schooled features. And that might be the best part of all. He hears a yawn from the back.

Henry’s sleepy voice drifts in. “Everything okay?”

“Just something went down the wrong pipe,” Glenn wheezes. He wipes Darryl’s junk into the crook of his elbow. For a minute, it’s just Glenn breathing hard, fishing for his joint again. He catches Darryl’s eye, and he remembers he pocketed the lighter what feels like ages ago. He presses it into Glenn's palms. He doesn't feel anything when they touch. He _does_ feel something when he catches Henry's dubious glance in the mirror.

Glenn kicks his boots up on the dash.

Darryl doesn’t speak another word. When they stop for breakfast, the rosary goes in the glovebox.


End file.
